


'Twas a Cannibal Christmas

by KaelaByte



Series: Fandom Poetry [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Christmas, Gen, I dunno how it turned into this, It started as fluff guys....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaelaByte/pseuds/KaelaByte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rewrite of the poem "Twas the Night Before Christmas" in the Hannibal universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Twas a Cannibal Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and in this small house,  
A young man was stirring, and beginning to grouse;  
His shirt was all sticky and clung way too tight  
So he poured a drink, and slept no more that night.

The dogs were all cuddled up snug in his bed  
While visions of nightmares danced through his head.  
He thought of beheadings, and limbs splayed out wide,  
He thought of some cannibals and then he just sighed.

Then out on his lawn there arose quite a sound  
And he stumbled from bed and almost fell to the ground.  
He looked out the window and gave a soft gasp  
With the tumbler still there, held tight in his grasp.

The trees out there trembled and snow tumbled down.  
The moon looked one quietly, seeming to frown.  
Then what to his wondering eyes should appear  
But Hannibal Lecter, with his mouth in a sneer.

His suit was quite dapper, pressed crisp and clean,  
He knew in a moment he’d need some caffeine.  
With a soft grumble and a put-upon sigh,  
Will went to the kitchen, cursing all and the sky.

“Now!? It’s midnight!” he scowled as the coffee pot beeped  
“Fuck! Fuck my life, fuck my job, I just want to sleep.  
Then shoes tread on his porch, a soft knock on his door,  
He nearly then left to find a liquor store.

And just like a shadow slipping across the wall,  
As silent as death to whose grip we all fall,  
Lecter came in seeming much larger than life,  
Eyes cold and hungry, his smile sharp as a knife.

His tie was in paisley, and his suit in blue plaid  
To Will’s mind he looked foppish (and a little bit mad).  
A box full of treats was held in his hand,  
He displayed them quite proudly, the wine cost three grand!

His eyes they then twinkled, cold rubies brought alight,  
His smile grew warmer as he beheld this sight.  
His cold little heart was beginning to grow  
Though the malice within was beginning to show.

He gestured around them, and said “take a seat.”  
But Will thought to himself it was a bit too neat.  
A wink of his eye and a twist of his smile  
Told Will who the Ripper had been all the while.

He stalked forward quickly and gave no relief,  
As Will scrambled backwards and shook like a leaf.  
Tears fell down his face, he was beginning to see  
His friend far more clearly; what he truly could be.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,  
Of making his friend look like a shoulder of pork.  
Then taking a portion and wrapping it tight,  
He displayed his friend, limbs played ‘round just right.

He walked from the house, and began softly to hum.  
He wiped blood off his face, as his feet slowly went numb.  
Then he thought to himself, as he walked out of sight,  
Merry Christmas to me, this was quite a good night.


End file.
